


New Blood

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Open Ending, Siring, Smut, blood kink kind of, creature - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-04 22:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: Something is drawing Pansy Parkinson towards Harry Potter. And while she can't describe it, she needs to be near to him, even if it means risking encounters with creatures of the night.





	New Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Fairest of the Rare's : Fairest Freaky Spooktacular! We got to choose an aesthetic and write a one-shot inspired by it!
> 
> Much to love my alpha's for their hard work. This piece is unbeta'd so please forgive my atrocious SPaG.

**PROMPT:**

** **

Dragging a nail around the rim of her martini, Pansy released an exaggerated breath. The Leaky Cauldron wasn’t the type of jaunt that Pansy Parkinson often frequented; she preferred places a bit more posh and with liquor that didn’t taste like something from old Sluggy’s ingredient stores. 

For the life of her she couldn’t remember why she’d felt like coming here tonight, but still, here she was, dressed to kill in little black thing so perfectly tailored for her it could bring a man to his knees. She leaned against the bar top and stared at the front of the _ Evening Prophet _. 

**NEW BLOOD: VAMPIRE SUSPECTED IN LONDON**

_ The streets of London are a bit darker these days according to the most recent reports from Head Auror Robards and his team. While nothing has yet been confirmed, there have been several persons reported missing in the last fortnight, as well as at least three bodies found drained. _

_ “We believe this to be the work of a freshly sired vampire who is, as of yet, unable to reign in their urges,” says Robards. “We encourage the citizens of Magical London to remain indoors whenever possible and take the necessary precautions to avoid being targeted. Vampirism is a heavily dangerous condition not only for those infected but those they come in contact with. If you suspect someone has been infected or is acting suspiciously, please reach out to the Auror office as soon as possible.” _

_ Auror Robards declined to comment on what would happen to the vampire who is presumed to be feasting on London in the weeks leading up to All Hallows Eve. _

_ Be safe, London, and keep a watchful eye on anything that might go bump in the night. _

The door swung open, heralding a welcomed gust of chilly October air and Pansy stilled as a familiar scent floated through the air. Her mouth ran dry, vision darkening as she turned, hunting for the source of evergreen and peppermint that beckoned to her senses. 

_ Potter. _

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she craned to see around the people scattered nearby. When was the last time she’d even seen the sloppy little Gryffindor? He looked mostly the same, messy hair and a surprisingly attractive five o’clock shadow gracing his hard jaw; maybe his shoulders were a bit broader and his arms a little thicker, but mostly he was the same boy she’d despised from afar all those years. Except she didn’t feel the same loathing she expected to when she saw him now; she felt a tug from deep inside her, luring her closer. 

A gentle voice echoed in the empty spaces of her mind. _ Go to him. _

Harry settled into a barstool, signaling for a drink from the lad behind the bar and against her own volition, Pansy downed the rest of her drink and sashayed the dozen feet to his side. 

“You can put it on my tab, Tom,” Pansy purred, facing Harry with one elbow resting lazily on the counter. “And another for me please.” 

Peering over his smudged glasses at her, she watched in strange fascination as his irises blew wide for a fraction of a moment. She could practically taste the pheromones in the air as his gaze raked over her body and then back up to her face. The thrumming in his pulse point picked up and her tongue felt dry and useless in her mouth as she stared at the curious little flutter. 

“Parkinson? What do I owe the pleasure?” His voice was droll even though his body was screaming otherwise. What a contradiction this boy was. “Come to poison me?”

Snorting, Pansy perched herself on the edge of the barstool, crossing one leg over the other to showcase the seam stitched in the back of her stockings. Harry didn’t miss it either. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have paid Tom to spike your drink and not wasted the sickles on the ale.”

The barkeep slid an extra-dry gin martini in her direction, then placed an ale in front of her companion. “Thanks, Tom. Keep ‘em coming.” Even as she spoke she didn’t take her eyes off Harry, there was something strangely alluring about him tonight, even with his hunched shoulders and unruly hair. 

“To burying the hatchet.” Raising her drink, her tongue darted forward, rubbing the tip of her tongue along her canine as she waited for Harry to lift his ale in return. He finally did, albeit a bit nervously as he stared at the bubbles rising in his drink, she fluttered her eyelashes in a slow wink before sipping daintily from her drink.

Why was she here? She couldn’t bloody place the reason for wanting to bury any hatchet with Mister Potter, other than perhaps one in his back. Not that she’d ever really meant him any harm, but he’d given her and her friends quite a bit of grief over the years and if there was some line between friend and foe, he was decidedly on the far side. 

“Thanks, Parkinson,” Harry managed as he swallowed and shifted in his seat, shrugging from his uniform jacket. Pansy’s eyes caught on the insignia stitched into his woolen coat. _ Auror; _something deep in the recesses of her mind implored her to explore that further.

“You’re an Auror now? How fascinating.” 

“I am. What about you? Don’t see much of you out and around.” 

Pansy’s lips parted, ready to tell pissy little Potter exactly what she’d been up to—but nothing came. There were flashes, the briefest of memories of times _ before _ but she couldn’t remember. Her heart picked up a frantic pace in her ribcage and she could feel the strangest anxiety pushing her away from the black spots in her memory. 

“Not much of anything, I’m afraid. It’s a droll existence being a socialite.” Pansy lied easily enough, moving her weight to one hip and letting her dress hike a bit further up her thigh. She was about to ask him about his work when her gaze again caught on the thumping of his pulse in his neck. She swallowed thickly and returned her attention to her drink, plucking an olive from the glass and removing it from its spear with her teeth. “The booze is shite in this place.” 

Harry snorted, finishing his beer and signaling for another. “Yeah, don’t try the food then. It’s only gotten worse, and it was never very good.” 

A bright string of laughter slipped from Pansy’s lips unbidden and as soon as she recognized the sound she clamped her lips shut and shot him an accusing look. _ How dare he make her laugh. _

“I’m sure it’s exhausting spending so much time scowling, Parkinson. No one will judge you for laughing a bit now and then, especially with me. I’m quite funny when I want to be.” 

“Doubtful.” 

The corner of his lips curled into a shy smile as he pulled his drink to his mouth and Pansy found she kind of liked the way it looked on him. A single layer of arctic ice thawed away from her cold, dead heart and she even felt herself smile a little bit too. 

“These drinks are shite,” she mumbled, rubbing her thumb against the stem of her glass and an idea struck her. “Tom! Bottle of Ogdens please.” 

Tom blanched. “A _ whole _ bottle?”

Rolling her eyes, Pansy summoned her cloak and dropped a pouch of galleons on the counter. “I can afford it. Let’s go, Potter. We’ll find a place to bury this hatchet of ours.” 

She wasn’t sure what she expected honestly, but Harry draining his beer and rising to his feet surely wasn’t it. Reaching for her cloak, Harry helped to shrug it over her shoulders, his fingers dragging along the exposed skin on her neck. 

“Merlin, you’re freezing,” he muttered. 

Her gaze snapped over her shoulder at him, watching as the apples of his cheeks pinked deliciously. It was quickly decided that as much as she enjoyed Harry Potter’s smile, she far more enjoyed his blush and endeavored to view it as many times as possible before this meeting of chance ended. 

“That’s the point of the cloak. Come now, Auror Potter.” Pansy snatched up the delivered bottle and reached for his hand. “I know just the place.” 

xXx

The Ogdens was getting decidedly lighter, after a few hours of sitting perched on this grassy little knoll. Pansy rocked back and forth in laughter as Harry told her some ridiculous tale about a ghost, a bathtub, and a golden egg. She’d no idea what he was saying but the longer she remained in his company, the more she found that she loved the way he said it. 

“Those were the good ol’ days,” Harry said, the final remnants of their laughter scattering on the wind. Overhead was a giant, oversized moon, glowing orange and beckoning to her in a way she couldn’t quite understand. Behind them, she heard a rustle in the thick woods and stilled, whipping around to study the darkness with a keen eye. 

She blinked, her eyes focusing on a shadow of movement deep in the woods and she swallowed thickly, turning back to Harry and ignoring the panic climbing up her throat. 

“Good ol’ days? Merlin, Potter,” she laughed dryly, snagging the bottle from between his thighs. “You were being actively hunted by the Darkest Wizard of our times. If those were the good days… well, you must be in some real shite now.” 

There was a long beat of uncomfortable silence, broken only by Harry’s indignant huff. “Yeah, it’s been a tough few years. After everything we lost, sometimes I still wonder if it was all worth it. The system is _ still _ broken, people _ still _ want me dead and we’re _ still _ fighting for rights for those who fought next to us in battle. My name and my scar only get me so far, these days; I became an Auror to continue the fight, to make real change. It’s not happening; I’m just for show. Someone to parade in front of cameras and dignitaries and I’m bloody sick of it.” 

Pansy shifted onto her hip, listening in rapture as he spoke so freely to her. Something was stirred inside by his words and she felt all of a sudden far too hot. Wind rolled over the grassy knoll and she caught that enticing scent of him again and her mouth filled with saliva. 

_ Not yet, pet. _ The voice returned, this time with an edge to it she couldn’t understand and she swallowed her thirst and reached up to push the fringe from his brow. 

“They don’t have you working on anything? That seems like a waste of a Chosen One if you ask me,” Pansy teased, her tongue heavy with whisky. 

Shrugging, Harry rested back on his elbows and stared at the moon bathing them in soft, golden light. “I’ve been tracking the vampire movements in London. Not that they really let me do much on it, but it’s turning into quite the bloody problem—no pun intended.” 

Pansy stilled, a sense of dread curling in her belly. “Is that so? I’ve not heard much of it.” Words tumbled loosely from her lips unbidden. 

“You should read up on it, Parkinson.” Harry eyed her narrowly. “Especially someone like you, it’s dangerous to be out at night all alone.” 

“Someone like me?” She mused, her fingers gliding down his neck, pausing briefly on the hollow under his jaw to relish in the feeling of his blood pumping under her fingertips. “Besides, I’m not out here alone. I’m with you.” Peering up at him through thick lashes, desire flared to life as he swallowed, the point of his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously in his throat. 

“We hate each other,” he breathed, rolling onto his elbow and sliding one hand up her stocking clad thigh, finding the seam and revealing a patch of ivory skin. 

Driven by instinct, or sex, or whatever it might be, her mouth dipped closer to his, her chest rising and falling shallowly. “Not tonight we don’t.” 

_ Good girl. Almost done. _ The voice was there, soothing her as their lips crashed together, moving frantically in a dance of tongue and teeth. Greedy lust coursed through her, claiming her mind and body as she kicked a leg over his lap and ground onto his erection. She nipped his bottom lip, drawing forth a small drop of blood and her eyes blew wide. Harry yelped, drawing back for a moment before she shushed him and her lips closed over the wound, sucking softly and trying to ignore the feral want inside her begging for more. 

_ Not too much. It’s almost midnight—almost time. _

“I’ll kiss it better, Potter,” she purred, grinding against him yet again. 

Potter moaned, accepting her affections. His hands slid up the silk of her dress, exploring every curve of her body with a frantic reverence. He tugged the straps of her dress until the thin fabric was pooled at her waist, exposing her breasts to the cold October air. She gasped as his rough fingers teased and plucked at her nipples, his mouth skimming down her neck and peppering kisses over her breasts. 

“Harry,” she keened, rocking against him. 

His palms moved to her thighs, rucking her dress around her hips and exposing the top of her stockings. Their bodies parted for a beat of a moment as she yanked his belt free and he shimmied his trousers down. Her knickers were hastily ripped and tossed to the side and she let out a quiet whimper as she felt the hot tip of his cock skim her entrance. 

Rising up on her knees, she dropped down almost lazily until she was seated fully on his lap. Head falling back, her eyes locked on the blood moon overhead. Her vision turned crimson, and she felt a blooming in her eyes as every nerve ending and synapse in her body fired with primal instinct. 

Below her, Harry grunted and pressed into her, his hands gripping almost painfully into her waist as she bucked on top of him, rolling her hips and finding a pace that brought her to the edge of completion. 

Her knees slipped on the wet grass below and she broke her trance with the moon to wrap her slender fingers around Harry’s neck and drag him up to sitting, his cock still buried deep inside her. A strangled moan filled the air as his hands guided her legs around his waist and they rocked back and forth together. She threaded her fingers in his hair, tugging and burying her face in the crook of his neck, lost in the delicious scent of him. 

“Merlin, you smell so good—” Her words were barely a breath as her tongue dragged along his neck and she sucked on the hollow of his throat. 

“Pansy,” he grunted, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arse as they rocked. She drew back, staring at him and feeling the tips of her canines brush against her lips as her fangs grew. He stilled as he studied her in the darkness. “Pansy… are you okay? Your eyes—” 

_ It’s time, pet. _ The words flooded her consciousness and she let out a strangled sigh of relief. The black spots in her memory-filled; visions of her new family, of sex and darkness and power that she couldn’t have fathomed in a hundred lifetimes flooded her mind. _ Finally. _

She wrenched his head back and exposed the long lines of his neck. Merlin, she was thirsty; firewhisky and gin were water compared to this. Harry was fighting back, frantically trying to throw her off his lap until,_ finally _, her fangs sank into the tender spot below his jaw. 

His hands stilled, gripping her as his screams died in the night air. She’d gotten him in the right spot, nicked that one artery that caused his blood to pour from him like a fountain. Just like she’d been taught. 

She rocked the final few times, fresh blood and a mind-blistering orgasm coursing through her. He began to run a little too cold for her liking and she slowed her pulls, savoring the last drinks of his golden blood. 

_ Pull back, child. We’re not draining this one. _ Compulsion drove her and she slid her fangs from his throat, warm blood dripping down her chin. 

“Oh, Potter.” Her lips turned downward, as his eyes rolled back in his head. “You’ll be okay. I remember now, and I’m going to make it better.”

Over his shoulder, at the edge of the wood, her coven emerged, shrouded in black cloaks and her vision zeroed in on her sire, a proud smirk on his lovely face. _ He is yours. Turn him. _

“I get to keep you,” she whispered, sinking her teeth into the underside of her wrist. “G’on, don't fight it or you’ll bleed out, Potter.” 

Harry coughed and sputtered, wrenching his head from the offering. With a soft growl, Pansy crawled from his lap and shoved her wrist to his lips. He fought it at first; which she expected. But before long, he was drinking greedily, his hands wrapped around her wrist, cradling her arm to him like a starved man. 

His colour returned, although he remained cool to touch, just like her. And he dropped her wrist, falling onto his back as he sucked in greedy breaths. 

Realization dawned over him and he scrambled away from her, tugging up his trousers as she scowled and righted her dress. “The fuck did you just do, Parkinson? _ Fuck!” _

He was frantic, his blood-red eyes scanning the darkness and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for her little protege. She’d never sired before, she was still new herself, but Master said this was a special occasion. 

She remembered what it was like to wake in the endless darkness, to feel the power and strength flooding her system, every sense heightened and overly sensitive. There was a lust that couldn’t be sated, for both body and blood that Potter now shared. 

“You did well, Pet.” The proud timbre in Lucius’ voice made her keen and she walked to her sire, softening into his gentle touch. “I’m sorry to do this to you without your knowledge, I hope you can understand. We couldn’t risk him finding out about you too early.” 

Her gaze fell back to Harry who was turning quickly in a circle, staring at the hooded figures surrounding him with horror etched onto his features. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry searched his wand, disappointment washing over his features as he realized it was in his cloak, discarded somewhere on the grass after too much whisky. “Someone better tell me right the fuck now what’s going on. D'ya hear me? I’m an Auror!”

Lucius clucked his tongue, and turned his attention back to Pansy, dragging a gloved finger down her cheek. “Make sure he’s fed and come back to the Manor to get him settled in.”

“Of course, Master.” 

“You, Mister Potter,” Harry stilled against his own volition. Lucius was her sire and as such held the same authority over her proteges. “You are part of a new breed rising. You have been specially chosen and changed under the Blood Moon. You will have abilities the rest of us do not; you’ll walk in the day and usher in a new era for our kind.”

Harry’s lips curled into a nasty scowl, and he spat at Lucius’ feet. “I’m not afraid of you.” 

A wicked smirk curled over Lucius’ features, his crimson eyes narrowing on Harry. “Yes, you are. But you needn’t be. You’re dead, Mister Potter and as such, fear is no longer a commodity that you dabble with. Furthermore, you are welcomed most graciously into our coven. The night waits for no man, friends; it’s time to feed. See you at dawn, Pansy. We’ve much to teach your new…pet.”

Each person lifted soundlessly into the air in graceful apparition and once the small patch of grass was empty Pansy summoned their cloaks with a flick of her wand and turned back to Harry. He looked rather put out, his lip curled in a nasty sneer and his balled into fists at his sides. 

  


“It’s _ you? _ You’re the one feeding on half of London? And what—I was a fucking mark?”

“Oh, hush.” Pansy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms tersley. “You’ve no idea the gift you’ve just been given. We’ll find you someone proper to feed on and then bring you back to the Manor and get you settled. You’ll find that your body has rather intense urges right now—” Her words were cut off as he crashed into her, barreling her to the ground and nudging her thighs opened with his knees. Bright laughter left her lip sas she parted for him. With a quick tug he slid his trousers down just enough to free him, and he sank inside her effortlessly as he grunted and searched for his own release. 

Through broken pleasured noises, she found her voice. "You’ll find—_ mmm _— it’s better if you bite when you come. G’on.” Harry pulled back, his hips still snapping against her and she could see the warring in his new ruby coloured eyes. His fangs had appeared, long and proud and begging to sink into her. “I like it,” she whispered, tightening the walls of her sex around his cock. 

A feral growl vibrated from deep inside him as his teeth pierced the thin, alabaster skin of her throat and his orgasm wracked his body. Her own orgasm flooded through her, dangerous and hot, stars bursting behind her lids. 

When they’d ceased their trembling, they fell apart, lying on their backs as they stared up at the moon that had just bonded them. “I want more,” he confessed, shy and nervous. 

Her lips quirked upwards. “More what?”

Silence stretched on for several long moments as Harry’s fingers found hers. “Of everything. More of you…_ more blood. _ More power, more night. I feel—” His words caught, choking him and she popped up on her elbow to soothe him. 

“We are the most powerful beings on earth, Harry. We have old and new magic colliding in our blood. We can have more of whatever we like, and it all starts tonight.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
